


Android Fever Dream

by Saint_Rick_The_Dick



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Kissing, PIV, POV Female Character, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-08 14:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15245274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saint_Rick_The_Dick/pseuds/Saint_Rick_The_Dick
Summary: Herein shall live a collection of my Connor x Reader drabbles. I'm the drabble queen, after all.





	1. Connor x Gender Neutral Reader

**Author's Note:**

> Request: Connor's face is that one face you don't want to hurt but you would also slap and devour it don't fuckin lie

You’re frustrated with this Android, don’t quite understand what he is or WHO he is, because he doesn’t understand himself. Some days you want to punch him right in the nose. Other days you want to cradle him in the palm of your hand, protect him from the cruelty and injustice of life. AND OTHER DAYS you just want to fuck him. Or maybe let him fuck you. Would he? CAN he? Is he capable of (re)producing that complex network of hormones and emotions we recognize as lust? Does he have the  _capacity_?

And it’s weeks of this. Weeks of confusion and uncertainty. Weeks of illicit daydreams. Weeks of soaring fantasies about what he would taste like and feel like and if those plastic hands are hot or cold. Would he bring you to your knees, or fuck you soft and slow and sweet? Would he ravage you? Or caress you, shower you with the kind of love and affection that can only be telegraphed through touch?

Finally, you reach your breaking point, and Connor - perfect, beautiful,  _infuriating_  - he can sense the shift in your mood, probably knows what you’re going to do before you do it. But he lets it happen anyway. Doesn’t interfere when you reach up, grab him by the face, smash your lips together to find -

_Bliss,_ flawless and complete. He’s pliant, patient, opens his mouth when you do, allows you to explore him as much as he explores you. And no doubt he is cataloging every reaction; the changes in your body temperature, the rise in serotonin levels, the chemical compounds in your saliva which tell him the brand of toothpaste you use. When you retreat, he allows it. When you come back for more, he’s there, and all the while your arousal is a potent, primal thing that makes your head spin and your knees watery. You break away to catch your breath - pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed - and he inspects your features, studies you. 

“You know,” there’s a certain level of amusement in his voice you’ve never heard before. “Androids are programmed to handle several different types of human unpredictability. This includes sexual encounters. Would you like to test out that feature?”

And what else can you say but, “Oh  _god,_  yes.”


	2. Connor x Gender Neutral Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Imagine Connor's clean and neat shiny hair gets all roughed up though ;D

You know his hair isn’t real. Beneath that synthetic veneer of creamy skin lies plastic, which means no hair follicles, which means no  _hair_ …. But still. Like everything else related to Connor you’re curious. And because you’ve never really been very good at denying yourself that curiosity, it slowly,  _slowly_  gets the better of you until you just HAVE to ask -

“Can I touch it?”

At your words he turns, his face perfectly handsome and entirely inscrutable.  He does that thing - the one which reminds you of an attentive puppy - tilts his head to the side.

“Touch what?” There’s a hint of confusion in that pleasant voice, and something else.

No bother. You’re well past the point of embarrassment, and you make a vague motion towards his upper body. “Your hair. I want to touch your hair, Connor.”

This gives him noticeable pause. Processing. He’s processing. When he does this you imagine that biomechanical brain of his as a silent, whirring machine. Always running, always cataloging, discarding useless bits of information and retaining what he deems important. He blinks, performs an entirely human action (shrugging) and then delivers that weird, not-quite-a-smile smile.

“Sure. It… May not be what you think.”

Permission granted, you’re quick to reach for him, and he’s kind enough to bend down slightly to allow you easier access. Even with his agreement, you’re still a little hesitant. Bodily autonomy isn’t something many Androids comprehend, and while Connor has been known to buck his programming, he still has a tendency to comply with requests issued by humans.

Well,  _some_  humans, anyway.

Your fingers find purchase in that impeccable coiffure, you get a hint of the texture, and you have to admit, he’s  _right_. It isn’t at all what you were expecting. It’s much softer, for one, almost silky, and it  _feels_ like human hair. Logically, you know that’s impossible, but you don’t care, you’re enjoying this too much, grin when you rake both hands through resulting in an absolute mess. He doesn’t laugh (is he even capable? you know other Androids are) however, when he straightens up, you see his not-quite-a-smile smile is far more genuine.

“It’s a sign of affection, correct?” That smile grows wider. “Playing with someone’s hair?” 

At that you  _do_  blush because  _of course_  he’s right. Damn Android. 

“Y-yeah.” Nervous. He’s made you nervous. “It’s usually something you do to people to show love. Or tenderness.”

Once he’s smoothed down the displaced strands, Connor does something unexpected: leans in and kisses you on the cheek. You gasp, eyes going wide, your mouth an open O of surprise. And when he pulls back, he’s still smiling.

“Kissing. That’s also a sign of affection for humans, isn’t it?”

You manage to squeak out a tiny “yes” in response.

“Then the next time you wish to show me affection, I request you just kiss me. I think it will be far more enjoyable for the both of us.”

And he’s right.  _Damn Android._


	3. Connor x Gender Neutral Reader

“Detective, I think you may have had enough to drink.” Connor pauses, his voice warm and even and maddeningly serene. “The alcohol is slowing your brain activity and impacting your motor control resulting in slurred speech. I would advise you to allow me to take you home.”

You slug back the rest of your beer, place the empty bottle on the bar. He’s right. You’re well past the point where driving is a good idea, and not just because he would arrest you for it. Wait. Hang on. Now  _that’s_  a mental image you can appreciate. Under different circumstances, Connor slapping cuffs on you would be a rather enticing prospect, but given your current state of inebriation nothing of substance would come from it and so you push the thought away. No use dwelling.

Scooting back from the bar, you turn to him and shrug. “You’re - you’re right, Connor. Mmm’drunk. I mean,  _I’m_ drunk. Should probably get out of here before…”

Before? Before you do something foolish, maybe? Like throw yourself at your Android partner? Connor is so handsome it’s  _frustrating_ , and further appears almost completely oblivious to the effects. At least, you  _think_  he is. Every so often you get the impression he’s toying with you. It’s never anything concrete, just a subtle look or half-smile - once he caught you staring and  _winked_  - but then he’s quick to correct any signs of perceived deviance and revert back to his impeccably pleasant behavior.

Connor waits as you come to your feet, then does the same, places a steadying hand at your waist when you sway. Even that tiny bit of contact is enough to send your thoughts careening to indecent heights, for the low pulse of arousal to suffuse and distract you. Because of course now you’re thinking about how those hands might feel on your bare skin, whether he would dig his fingers into your hips while he fucked you, or if he would offer gentle caresses, achingly tender touches. You can feel him studying, dissecting you. His head is tilted to the side, the LED at his temple bright blue.

“Detective, your cheeks are flushed. I’m also sensing a sudden spike in body temperature, and an increase in the release of serotonin and dopamine levels indicating a pleasure response.”

 _Damnit!_  Pay attention, pay attention, focus, focusss fo c u sss… But, it’s impossible.

How do you tell a man who is not actually a man yet  _looks_  like one that you want to kiss him? Turns out, you don’t. You just do it.

Surge forward, reach up to cup the back of his neck, note what you believe is a momentary look of confusion on his disgustingly beautiful face, raise on your tiptoes so you can press your lips to his and -

Miss entirely.

You stumble, your balance thrown askew thanks to the heady mix of too much booze and a fervent desire to just fucking  _do_  something to him. Connor catches you, or rather, you two collide, and his presence prevents you from crashing to the floor. If you weren’t so drunk you’d be ashamed, but as it is all you’re capable of is a hiccuping giggle.

“I think it’s time to leave, Detective.”

He’s teasing you, you realize, can hear it in the tone of his voice, but before you have a chance to stop or interrupt or say anything to the contrary, he bends down, hooks an arm behind your knees and scoops you up. The change in orientation is stomach churning, and you release a strangled  _“Eurgh!_ ” in the process, cling to him as he navigates between the bar stools and heads for the door. He talks the whole way to the car.

“I realize the sudden movement may have caused you discomfort due to the density difference alcohol creates between the cupula and the fluid in the canals of your inner ear. Plus, your current BAC is approximately 0.10%, which would explain your lack of coordination.”

You hum in acknowledgment of the anatomy lesson. Cradled against him, you can’t help yourself, bury your nose in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Surprisingly, he  _does_  have a smell. It’s light and clean; laundry detergent combined with the unmistakable odor of new car. You’re tempted to  _lick_ him but then -  

“And by the way.” That playful note is still present and you  _swear_  you can hear him grin. “The next time you want to kiss me, perhaps don’t trip over your own feet. While endearing, it does it make it difficult to return your affection when you’re halfway to the ground.”

At that you grow warm - with embarrassment, understanding, and  _promise_  - but you realize you’re at the car and so all you can muster in your drunken, exhausted state is a half-hearted admonishment. 

“Oh,  _shuddup,_ Connor.”

He’s still smiling when he places you in the passenger seat and closes the door. “Whatever you say, Detective.”


	4. Connor x Female Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy smut by request!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slams table and points at clock* CUTE SMUT CUTE SMUT SWEET FUCKING, Reader 'shows' her preferences in sexual pleasure, am I not saying enough? You're fucking great! just can't wait to see more from you! and yes i am picturing giggly and nervous sex but you're the boss, boss.

“Like this? Am I doing it right?”

And  _oh_ , yes he is. You roll your hips, arch off the bed. Connor has two fingers sunk in the plush heat of your cunt, and you’re currently trying your best to maintain control.

You’re failing.

It started out simple enough: soft, slow kisses and wandering hands, the sweet, low note of arousal making you slick and impatient. You knew he was curious - about you, about _this_  - he’d expressed as much on previous encounters. So, when you not so subtly indicated you wanted  _more_ , he was eager to deliver.

“Connor!” Breathy and desperate, you call his name when he curls his fingers just right, presses his palm to your clit. 

Who knew. Who knew this android would be so adept at making you fall apart with his touch. But as delicious as this is - the churning, rising tension, the hard, hot line of his erection against your thigh, your whimpers of bliss - it’s still not enough.

Do you dare ask? Yes. You do.

“Connor… I - could you - would you fuck me?”

At this he pauses. You can see the bright blue LED at his temple circling as he processes your request. It was probably the word ‘fuck,’ you realize, though you assumed he was familiar with its colloquial use. You consider amending the phrase, but then he smiles, withdraws, shifts closer.

“Fuck.” It sounds profane coming from his mouth. “A word with multiple meanings. However, given our current situation, I believe you’re asking me to engage in sexual intercourse.”

You can’t help it, burst into laughter. Leave it to the analytical mind of an android to take something lewd and boil it down to the essentials.  You compose yourself before responding.

“Yes, Connor. I’m asking to have sex with you. Or, for you to have sex with me. I mean, for us to have sex with each other.”

He nods, sucks his fingers clean, comments you taste good and he’d like to perform cunnulingus on you in the future, to which you reply, “You mean you want to eat my pussy?” and then he’s between your legs.

Like the rest of him, his cock is flawless. When he rolls his hips, running the shaft along your wet slit, the fat head passing over your sensitive clit, you can’t help the needy little sound you make low in the back of your throat, the way you buck up to meet him. How long have you waited for this? How long have you been patient? Too long, you think. Entirely too long.

Unsure if it’s his intention to tease you, he’s doing it regardless and so you say the one word you know he can’t misconstrue:

“ _Please_.”

And Connor obeys. Reaches into the gap between your bodies, aligns himself with your entrance, and slides slowly, so very slowly, inside of you. It’s exquisite and perfect and you throw your head back, moan, wanton and shameless, as he fills you. The heady pulse of your desire blooms to full pleasure, and as he starts to fuck you, languid and smooth, his movements oh so gentle, you cling to him, wrap your arms around his neck and whisper into his skin.

_Connor._


End file.
